


The Many Loves of Stan Marsh

by AgelessFace



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgelessFace/pseuds/AgelessFace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the boys' Junior year of high school, when Stan Marsh begins to reevaluate the loves in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KFC

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey,  
> So okay, after reading many, many, many, MANY fanfcitions around here (God help me I'm so going to hell), I decided that, what the hell, I'll post too, 'cause I think I'm funny or something. 
> 
> So, like, okay, this is my first fanfiction. Hope you enjoy? Please tell me if it's crap? 
> 
> God please don't let it be crap.
> 
> Oh and English ain't my first language so sorry for any possible grammer mistakes. And I also don't live in USA so sorry about any possible mistakes I'll most likely make about that too. Wikipedia can only offer so much, y'know?

On Wednesday afternoon, on the third day of junior year, in the grand city of Denver, Stan Marsh is in love.

The keeper of his heart and soul?

His one and only?

That for whom his entire being shall gladly be doomed in hell for?

Kentucky Fried Chicken.

"I can believe you guys." Kyle huffs, sitting cross legged, crossed armed, in front of the three friends he very much hates right now attacking their buckets filled with poor, helpless, fried, delicious chickens.

"Sorry dude", Says Stan between bites. Well, during bites, really. He hopes nothing will spit on Kyle, who sits directly in front of him. The dude looks pissed off enough.

"One week support. That's all I asked for."

"Kaal, your wily Jew tricks will not work on my good Christian friends here. It was in man's nature to eat his non-kosher food ever since Eve sucked Adam's juicy balls."

"Shut up fatass!" Kyle snaps, his face already reddens. Stan, sitting in the middle between his friends, motions Kenny for the gravy. He passes it absent-mindedly, eyes never leaving the piece between his fingers. "If not for you we might have actually gone to the movies right now instead of you three assholes humping your mouths."  
  
"You should watch yourself eating ice cream." Kenny mumbles. Stan snickers, nearly choking in the process. It's true though, Kyle can say all he wants about being asexual and whatever, he'll always get a boner whenever ice cream is on the table.

Sometimes he even makes noises, much to Kenny's open delight.  
  
Can it be a thing, like, Creamsexual?  
  
"Cartman, didn't you like, convert to Judaism though?" Stan asks, waving his chicken towards Cartman's face, some gravy chunks flying all over.  
  
Cartman fat cheeks flush at the memory, but he laughs it off as if it's the most boring piece of information Stan could ever bring up. "Pfft, whatever dude, that was like, trillions years ago when Passover was threatening civilization and shit. Plus Kaal totally used his mind control ginger-magic on my pure Christian soul. Jews are so lame."  
  
Kyle groans loudly, his eyes rolling until Stan's sure he can hear those eye muscles stretching. Or whatever else holds the eyeballs inside the sockets. Look, Kyle's the one studying biology, okay? Gees.  
  
But then Kyle's frown turns to him all of a sudden, and he swallows down and pauses. A scowling Kyle is getting scarier every year.  
  
"And what about you? Don't you care about all those poor chickens that were brutally massacred just so you could eat an overpriced bucket of them?"  
  
Stan shrugged. "Sure I do, you know that. And as soon as they find a cure for vaginitis I'm totally abstaining and getting my B12 vitamins. Till then though…"

"Hippy." Cartman murmurs, but let it drop too. Aaaand back to chewing.  
  
Apparently Kyle's not done yet though. "And what about your football diet, huh? Won't all this greasy, fatty, salty, empty calories totally mess up all those muscles you've worked so hard on for?"  
  
Damn it, reached a sore spot.  
  
It's not like Kenny or Kyle or Cartman have to worry about this things. Kenny eats like, once a week or something, and Kyle actually likes eating all that gross healthy food ("You learn to appreciate it once you learn to cook for yourself"), coupled with the fact he's in the track team (basketball's just too painful a memory for him), and he got himself a pretty decent body without even asking for it. Plus he's also asexual or whatever, so not like he cares or anything. And if Cartman gets any fatter he'd probably score a record or something, so like, what's he got to lose anyway?  
  
So Stan's the only one left to care what he pours down his throat. He looks down the bucket. Three quarters of it already gone down the drain, also called his stomach. Suddenly he doesn't feel so in love anymore. He passes the rest of it to Kenny's side, who eyes Stan suspiciously for a moment, then the bucket.  
  
"Aye! Give me those!"  
  
Cartman's hand reaches across the table, almost as if he believes his hand will be able to reach far enough to grab it. He doesn't, his hand flailing pathetically in the air. Kenny rolls his eyes, but still take it as an excuse to dig his head inside the bucket. Doing whatever it is Kenny does when he gets his head inside buckets. Cartman return his arm to its place as if he was being electrocuted.  
  
"Awe SICK!"  
  
As Cartman throws curses Kenny in what Cartman classifies as German but is most likely just gibberish, Stan glances up to Kyle's face, who doesn't bother to hide his smug victory grin. "Shall we?"  
  
"Whatever", he mumbles, taking Kyle's offer of a napkin and he wipes his mouth, though really he mostly just took it as an excuse to throw something on the table. It jumped back up, landing with a full-on-gravy splash, barely an inch away from the grossed out Kyle.  
  
They get up, leaving the other two stupid idiots with their stupid buckets. Stan pulls out his manly purse, drops his third of the cash, and follows his best friend out of the door.

  
"Honestly dude, I don't get why you're so stressed out about this." Stan says as they enter his mom's car.  
  
"We talked about this dude, I have to eat kosher now or else-"  
  
"-or else your super-rich, super-jewish cousin who you've been sucking to for a year won't finance your education, I know dude. Who cares? You're like, the smartest kid in school. You'd probably get full scholarships from every university and college out there."  
  
"From some shitty average universities out there, sure. Not from the big leagues though Stan."  
  
He tries not to take offense to that, knowing Kyle he probably forgot Stan's most likely to go to those exact "shitty average universities", probably without even a scholarship, if he'll go at all. Well, Kyle also got this stupid idea that Stan could get a football scholarship, so maybe that's why he said that. It's a cute idea, really. Flattering, even, which doesn't come by often from Kyle. But Stan isn't an idiot, he knows it's a long shot at best. Completely, laughably, hopelessly ridiculous wins as second best.  
  
Besides, he can't say anything, 'cause Kyle's really concerned about this. like, he bites his lip and pulls his feet on the car's passenger sit and everything. Which he never does. Stan couldn't care less, but Kyle is one anal dude.  
  
Hehe. Anal.  
  
"Kyle, c'mon, you can't actually believe that."  
  
Kyle just shrugs, his head buried between his knees. Like Kenny did with the bucket.  
  
"I don't know dude, it's just. It's hard, you know? Like, sure, I get my A's, and sign on to the hardest classes this stupid school can offer- which isn't much- and I sign to debate club, and physics club, and the track team, and this year will probably be even harder and shittier than the last one- remember dude? We only saw each other like, once a month- and I literally think I might nearing a mental breakdown just thinking about how am I gonna pass this, and it's only been three days! And still!"  
  
His voice grows frantically every second, until it becomes near a shouts.  
  
"Still what?" Stan whispers, like it compensates for Kyle's rising octaves. As if maybe god will forgive all of Kyle's sins if Stan'll take it down a notch for him.  
  
Kyle sighs, taking a few breaths. His head picks out, and Stan stares at his flaring nostrils. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.  
  
Their eyes meet then. Stan could detect the beginning of tears on his freckless ginger friend.  
  
"Dude…"  
  
His best friend shakes his head, and stares to the front mirror, gazing at the beautiful sight of a car's rear.  
  
Right, they're still in the parking lot. He should probably drive the car, before the guys inside notice they've been left without a ride.  
  
But it might disrupt this kind of a serious conversation they're having here, And really, Stan's aware it might be a long time before he'll have a chance to hang with Kyle again. He's right, Last year had been awful, Stan could barely keep up, and he had three classes less than Kyle did, and only football and a girlfriend to worry about. Which didn't really have time for him either, being the class president and all.  
  
Who's the idiot that promised him beer kegs and house parties all year round once he reaches high school?  
  
Oh right, dad. Asshole.  
  
He waits a minute for Kyle to collect himself, but when he opens his mouth, he says, "Just drive dude, before Cartman gets out here." When he notices Stan's raised eyebrow, he smiles reassuringly. "I'll tell you dude, just give me a minute to think about it."  
  
Stan nods, and starts the ignition. It was rare for Kyle to have a hard time to find the right words. The dude pukes rants, speeches and verbal attacks as often as breathing. But it happens sometimes, and Stan knows not to push it. He'll get his rant either way, he thinks. He can't help but smile fondly at the thought.  
  
They're out of the parking lot, just in time to notice the two figures running out of the KFC, shouting curses and raising their middle fingers as far as possible, and they drive away, wiping away tears of laughter.  
  
But as their amusement soon vanishes back to the strained mood, Kyle deep in thoughts, Stan driving quietly back to South Park. He pretty much lost hope of watching a movie that had more than two people in the theater besides them. Just as well, South Park's theater at least doesn't sell any buttery popcorn. No need to fear of temptation.  
  
"It's just," Kyle suddenly blurts, fifteen minutes into the ride. "I think it's the same reason why you don't believe you'll get that scholarship, you know? I mean, sure, in here, in South Park, yeah we're one of a kind. I'm good at math, you're good at playing ball. But like, out there? Where there are people who aspire to do more than just take over their dad's business, or raise a good little family, or live one day without some alien probe dropping down their backyard? Out there Stan, we're like everybody else. Only this Town's so stuck up its own bubbled ass we just don't know it yet."  
  
And then Kyle is quiet again, and eyes Stan apologetically, as if offended him. He turns his eyes for a moment, just a moment from the road, to peer Kyle up from under his eyelashes. Usually it's enough to encourage him on.  
  
It's enough for now as well.  
  
"You know I think you're awesome at football," He hurriedly explains, "and you'll get a scholarship for sure. Hell, you actually compete and you win, I've got nothing to compare myself with. But even if I did, you know, we're still just a couple of rednecks from a shitty little mountain town, with no money, no nepotism, and have absolutely no idea.

  
"And it's not like I want this things, you know that. I want to earn it. And hell, just getting accepted to this places will make me so satisfied, you know? Like, I did it. I'm from South Park, and I did it. It's like I'm Abraham Lincoln or something!" He chuckles to himself, but his voice is sad, choked on tears. "But I have to be realistic. If I want to make it out there, really make it, I've got to use all of my options. And you should too."  
  
He stops again, and Stan waits for a minute, and then another one. But Kyle doesn't say anymore. The silence is awkward, 'cause Stan wants to say something. Nothing big, nothing that will change Kyle's mind, or convince him he's good enough, or hell, reassure him that even if he does end up staying in South Park it's not the end of the world, 'cause the last part's a lie, and Kyle knows it too.  
  
"Maybe we should move to Europe dude."  
  
Kyle lets out a strangled laugh. "Wh-what?"  
  
"I mean, yeah, why not? You, me, maybe Wendy and Bebe too, Kenny if he manages to score some money for a ticket. We'll go to England or, or y'know, some other country where everybody talks French or German and has a funny accent. Everybody loves Americans, they'll totally take us."  
  
Kyle rolls his eyes, but his smile is back, and it kind of reaches his eyes. "You sure you want to learn German dude? It's like a constant reminder of Fatass over there."

  
"Well, maybe we shouldn't learn it then. So it's like a promise we'll stay together."  
  
"That's so gay, dude."  
  
"I feel gay, dude."  
  
"Let's not go to the movies, 'kay dude?"  
  
"Sure dude. Want me to drive you home?"  
  
"Nah, let's go to your house dude. Need to let out some steam."  
  
"Whatever you want dude. Popcorn sucks ass."  
  
In the end Kyle does let out some steam while he punches the hell out of Stan in some random game on Xbox. And when it's ten o'clock at night, and Stan can hear Kyle's mom's loud voice screeching from the phone, he barely even remembers to say goodbye before running off to his house. Only then Stan bothers to check his own phone, first time since they left the school today, and notices three messages from Wendy, one from Clyde, and fifty or so from Kenny and Cartman each. Guess he'll see tomorrow at the bus stop if they found a ride home back from Denver or not.  
  
Who needs Kentucky Fried Chicken anyway?


	2. Bebe Stevens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is love in the air, and it's totally platonic.

On Thursday morning, the fourth day of junior year, in the back row of a boring math class he would forever regret not skipping every time until the end of senior year, Stan Marsh has discovered the love of his life.

A love so pure,

So beautiful,

Stan just might write a love poem about it.

And that love is?

Bebe Stevens.

In a totally platonic way, of course.

Because finally, after two years where no one offered to take up the glove, to submit themselves for the greater good, to risk their parents' unrelenting wrath, she has finally done it.

Bebe Stevens,

Is throwing a house party.

Or at least, that's what Clyde says.

"I totally texted you about it dude, where you've been?"' He whispers to Stan very loudly. The girl sitting before them, this curly chick with glasses and a pimple on her nose turns around sharply to glare at them to be quiet. Like Stan can take her seriously with that pimple there, just staring at him. He decides to just ignore her. Because when one sucks at math, one's gotta deal with the consequences. One of those consequences just happen to be Clyde's loud mouth.

"Sorry, we drove to Denver Yesterday, forgot to check. Wait so, you're _sure_ sure about this? You're not just being an asshole for Craig, right?"

"Come on Marsh. that was like, sophomore year."

"Two months ago dude."   

"Whatever dude, we were totally kids back then. We're men now, drinking illegal beer and screwing actual girls, not like, hookers or teachers or snookies or Ben Aflek or-"

"Okay Clyde, I get it, we get to drink underage and have sex with our girlfriends."

"Yeah, now all we need is money for beer and girlfriends for sex."

"Already have the girlfriend."

"Cool, wanna share?"

"Gross, dude."

The two boys laugh between themselves, not bothering to notice if half the class eavesdrops on their very secretive, very loud conversation. The teacher never seems to notice, thankfully. Stan vaguely wondered last year if she might happen to be deaf or something, 'cause not only were they always extremely noisy in her class, but she also never seems to answer right to the questions when asked. She rages every time she hands back tests, complaining about their insecurities when all the have to do is just raise their hands. "If you can raise your middle finger at your friends, why can't you raise your index one at me?"

They already had the music and guest list planned out before the bell rang. Now all they had to do was hope Bebe is cool with them taking control of her own party. They separate as they walk out of the door, but not before a fist bump of course, 'cause football can make you an ass out of you sometimes.

He makes his way towards the lockers, glad to see the back of Kyle's green ushanka already there- And Bebe skipping his way too! Hell, he wanted to be the one breaking the news, but whatever. This works out too.

She reaches Kyle before Stan does, her bag carried loosely on one shoulder, long golden hair atop the other as she poses with an arm on her hip, a confident smirk she is quite famous for noticeable from Stan's profile view of her. She says something, and Kyle picks his face out of his locker, closing and locking, granting her a polite grin and a response. She laughs wholeheartedly, and by the time Stan finally reaches the two Kyle's smile seems genuine.

They notice his approach then, and both turn to him. "Hey Stan," Bebe greets. "I was just about to tell Kyle-"

She doesn't get to finish the sentence, as Stan wraps his arms around her tightly. She makes choked sounds, but chuckles when Stan finally lets go of her. Kyle raises his brow at the two, but doesn't comment more than quirking the corners of his lips a little bit up. Just a tiny bit.

"Guess Clyde already told you huh?" she says, brushing a hand through her hair before resting it back on the hip. She quickly tells Kyle about the party at her house, and Stan could not have been happier when he reaches the conclusion Kyle wasn't faking that excited squeak he just made.

He probably made the exact same sound when Clyde told him anyway. Not that Stan is ever gonna admit that.

"If you weren't my girlfriend's girlfriend I could have kissed you right now." Stan says.

Did Stan ever mention he can hear it when Kyle rolls his eyes?

"If I wasn't ogling your best friend's ass every time he turns around I could have let you." She winks at Kyle, who's face flushes so red there would be no telling between it and his hair. Maybe that was why he still wore his hat all the time? Like, even in summer and stuff. By seventh grade he even started going to the pool with it. Does he shower with it too? It's been ages since he'd seen his hair, now that he's thinking about it. Stan doesn't even notice his hand absently moving towards it, trying grab the flaps hiding his ears-

"Stop it Stan!" He slaps his hand away and pulls the hat down until it nearly reaches his eyebrows.

"Right, sorry. So anyway Bebe, when's the party?"

"Tomorrow night."

Stan's beam was short lived as he sees the face of his friend darkening. The jock and cheerleader look at him in horror. "Short notice", is his lame excuse. Stan grips Kyle's shoulders tightly, and if it hurts him, too bad, 'cause that's what you get when you think about passing on the opportunity of beer and girls. Well, just beer in Kyle's case. Or so he says anyway.

"No dude, no way. You're coming."

"Come on Kyle, please?"

"Sorry guys, but I've got to finish this essay by the end of this week. Mrs. Triss might as well just kick me out of the class if I don't do it."

Stan let's go of Kyle's shoulder then, albeit a bit forcefully, growling and lifting his hands to his face. Great. The year hasn't even started yet and it already sucks better than the last.

"Wait, that's chemistry class right?" Kyle nods, and Bebe's huge grin is back. Seriously how many classes Kyle takes, anyway? Is that even allowed? "Wendy said she's got a huge assignment too she's gotta do. I forced her to come anyway, but she's really worried she won't make it by then. It's possible to pair on it?"

Kyle nods, slowly. "Nobody really pairs in this class 'cause Mrs. Triss says pairings' for pussies, but it's possible, sure."

"Well great then! You both are actually smart, I'm sure if you two do it together it'll make things go faster. Not like that time me and Stan paired that one time, right?" She winks again.

Stan nods. "Best F I got all year."

She chuckles again, because Bebe loves to chuckle near Kyle. She puts her hand in his, trying to make a romantic out of the least romantic guy ever. It would be almost cute, if Kyle's head wasn't staring at Stan, waiting for a reaction.

"What dude?" Stan asks dumbfounded.

He shrugs, but the answer is at the tip of his tongue, Stan can tell. Mostly because he can see Kyle's tongue trying to peer out from behind his lips. "I don't know dude, are you like, fine with that?"

Stan frowns, sensing as if he should know what Kyle's talking about. Well actually he does, but he won't say it. Because Stan isn't nine years old anymore, at some point it just gets downright uncool.

Bebe looks between the guy her hand is held by and the other one which tries not to pout, mouthing a slow 'o'. "Ohhh I see, is it part of the bro-code thing?" When they both just shrug, she takes her hand out of Kyle's gentle grip and pushes her hair back. "Boys can be so stupid sometimes."

"I know _that_ feeling." Kyle mutters. She chuckles again. It can get really annoying sometimes. She can be a seriously cool person when she's not around Kyle, with all that chuckling and the hair swaying and the hip thingy. Kyle doesn't seem to really mind though. Asexual Cartman's ass.

Maybe it would be better if they do end up together though. Maybe Stan will be able to trust his girlfriend and his best friend together that way.

But then that would mean just more Bebe Chuckles, and that just won't do.

"Well, I don't care about whatever this is, and Wendy would be really pissed off at Stan if he would ever suggest she can't be around his best friend to do a _chemistry essay_ of all things. Geez, talk about buzz-kill." Her voice is chipper and more annoying the more she talks. God, and he was all platonically in love with her just forty five minutes ago. What did he ever see in her anyway?

Apparently the girl can sense hate, because she tones it down, finally, and looks him straight in the eyes. "Come on Stan, don't you want Kyle and Wendy to be in this party?"

The bell rings, but the three stay in their places, four eyes piercing Stan. He can see it in Kyle's eyes. He doesn't really care what Stan thinks, the concern behind his frown is probably more due to the affects this will have on his grades. But his mind is made up. Because either Kyle's really kind of heartless, or Stan's really kind of a douche. Could be both, but Stan's the one who gets the stare-down.

But, it really would suck if Kyle won't come, and having to suffer through a whole week of Wendy talking about how it was all his and Bebe's fault she failed and she would never get into a good collage and she was going to end up a housewife like Bebe's mother, and Stan knew that couldn't be true, because Wendy's boobs weren't nearly as big as-

"Kyle!" Token's deep voice bringing Stan back to this reality. Kyle turns and waves to the only black guy in their high school. "You coming to class?"

"Yeah, just a sec." He called back, then his eyes set back to stab Stan. "Well?" He asks, his tone sharp and challenging, daring Stan to be a bit of the selfish asshole he couldn't be anyway with a friend like Kyle and girlfriend like Wendy. Democracy sucks sometimes, he'll give Cartman that.   

So, naturally, Stan just shrugged and grinned. "What the hell, just one little essay right?"

Kyle's shoulders' relax visibly, a calm smirk back on his face as Bebe lets out a breath Stan didn't notice she was holding. "It's gonna be awesome dude, I'll talk to Wendy after class. See ya!" He backs away and scurry after Token, the two fast out of sight.

Bebe also left soon after, saluting before making a left turn and disappearing as well. Stan was just about to do the same, before rotating 180 degrees back.

Because shit.

His books are still in the locker. His class is on the other side of the building. And oh look, he just stepped on a gum.

Bebe Stevens better have those beer kegs, 'cause right now he's seriously starting to question if he should write that platonic love poem to her.


	3. Beer Cans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party happening, and Marsh's loving it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay so apperantly I'm kind of really into this story. Like, forget-to work-on-my-university-assignments-to-write-this-shit sort of into it. Hope it's as enjoyable to read as it is to write.

It is Friday night, first weekend of school (thank god), At Bebe Steven's huge porch, huddled together with four more people on a three person couch- three girls and one guy not including himself, to be exact- when Stan Marsh discovers love.

That bubbly feeling he's got in his gut, his brain, his legs, that makes him want to hug a tree, kiss the couch, sit on Kenny's head while he tries to pick through one girls' skirt.

Who is it, you ask?

What is it that holds his fragile heart?

The answer is simple, friends.

Beer Cans.

It should have been beer _kegs_ , but nothing's perfect.

Not that Stan's such a light weight he gets so drunk to dance himself like a stripper from just a couple of beers. He may or may not have had a few drinks before the party, but fortunately, If anybody notices he's being way more chipper than he should have any right to be, they kindly thank Bebe and let him hum Taylor Swift songs under his breath as much as he'd like.

It also helps, of course, that most of them there are about just as much drunk as he is.

Pfft, light weights.

Oh wait, there's also that half-empty bottle of Vodka Red is pouring a generous shot from. Where did that come from? And why wasn't he invited in? Should he feel neglected? He kind of wants to feel neglected about this.

But whatever, this is like, the best night of his life. Well maybe not, but it's top ten, easy. Watching Craig running in circles away from a drunk Annie, Clyde trying to do shots out of his own belly bottom (and wasting a precious amount of alcohol in the process, way to go asshole), the guys from the county declaring their love for South Park, hell yeah, fuck North Park, Middle Park, New York, whatever, this place's the best! Even Charging the pack of wild drunks to hit Cartman with sticks and empty cans each time he tries to carry his fat ass over the fence into the party is the most fun he's had in a while. Even Kyle allows himself to enjoy for once, Stan is thrilled to notice, all smiling and laughing with-

Wait.

Wendy?

Oh no.   

Stan immediately straightens up on the couch- a different couch this time, with a passed out Ned, this North Park jock-dude spluttered all over it right next to Stan. How the hell did they even manage this position? - to watch his girlfriend and best friend enjoying a pleasant chat in the center of the porch, right in front of him and everybody else, like it's a totally acceptable thing to do or something. Wendy's leaning her elbows on the edge of another couch, this gross mustard yellow thingy with pink flowers that honestly just look like stains, Kyle by her side on this bright blue folding chair, holding himself a beer in his hand but is so absorbed in the conversation he seems to have forgotten all about it (-Forget about beer. So typical of Kyle). With one leg stretched over his opposite thigh, propping his upper body on his elbows, and his hands are moving around as if explaining something, which makes sense with how frantically she's nodding her head, but then she's laughing- what is it with girls laughing and Kyle? He's not _that_ funny- and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and she leans a bit closer, and is that allowed, because he really doesn't think it is, and if Cartman was here he would totally call her a hoe and Stan wouldn't agree, but like, he wouldn't disagree with that conclusion either, even if he still would call out "don't call my girlfriend a hoe Cartman!" and then Wendy would be pissed off because she doesn't need Stan to defend her honor like she's Bebe's mom or something, and Bebe would agree while she tries to straddle Kyle's lap and offer him a sip from her lemonade-blended vodka, and Kyle would jump up in surprise and flush from ear to toe, and she would chuckle and pinch his cheek because that's just so cute, and Cartman would make a huge scene and drag Bebe by her hand behind his fat ass, screaming at everyone to get back, Kaal is releasing his ginger pheromones! 'cept for Wendy the hoe, she can stay and get infected-

"GOD JUST SHUT YOUR FAT FUCKING MOUTH CARTMAN!"

Oh wait, that's actually happening.

How did Cartman get inside anyway?

Those few who weren't already enraptured by Cartman's new drama episode get their heads turned by the couple screaming from atop of their lungs, teeth bare and nostrils blazing. There may or may not be actual flames coming out of their eyes.

As the miracle worker she is, all Bebe has to do to restore natural order was to frown, cross her arms, and ask calmly, "Who let Cartman get in?"

"Not me," Craig shrugs when Bebe's looks to him expectedly. He points his thumb behind his head at the culprit. "Tweek's the one who was supposed to watch."

"Ack! He said he's got connections with ISIS and they will come and cut my balls if I won't let him in!"

"Oh nice going Tweek, just wait 'till I tell my guy Nasim on you. Hope you like eating your own nutsack you dick."

"GAH!!!"

Bebe rolls her eyes. "Just get him out of here." And she walks away to a group of her girlfriends, leaving Cartman to the mercy of a bunch of drunk teenagers.

As fun as beating Cartman to a pulp is, Kyle and Wendy decide not to join the pastime and instead resume their previous positions, and from some mysterious reason Stan decides now's the best time to get up and take a sit next to Wendy on the couch, noting her nostrils still wide enough to get a fly inside them. Kyle's arms are crossed tightly, and his eyelids are shut, seemingly counting to ten as his anger-management therapist had advised him. Kyle always complained it's never any help, but he does it anyway, because, as the therapist reasoned, "it's better than getting detention for breaking someone's neck. Yes, even Cartman's."

Stan drops down heavily and wraps his hand on the back of the couch, just above Wendy's shoulders. She forces a strained smile and rests her hand on his knee, shifting in her sit so he could have a clear view of Kyle.

"Hey dude." Kyle grunts out.

Well, so he's still grumpy.

"What was that all about?" he asks casually, masterfully pretending he wasn't watching the whole scene even before it actually started.

Kyle huffs and leans back. "Cartman breathing isn't enough?"

Stan nods. With Kyle and Wendy it pretty much is.

"I wish he'd get his ass on fire one day." Wendy proclaims.

Kyle snorts. "With his farts it's pretty much guaranteed to happen."

She chuckles, and bends forward with a sly grin. "You know, I bet his farts can make a brand new power source if used right."

Stan raises his brow, but his best friend joins her with a devious smirk of his own. "Good point. Wanna use it for next project topic?"

"You bet." And they snicker among themselves like crazy evil people.

Not that listening to his girlfriend talk about farts isn't one of the more appealing things he's done this evening, but,

"Next, project?" And it feels like thorns grew inside his throat, they must have, Because Kyle regards him with a strange look which feels oddly appropriate to the way he feels at the moment. Wendy doesn't seem to mind he sounds like a frog though, and she looks thoughtfully at Kyle.

"Yeah, I don't really see why not, me and Kyle worked so well together, I swear even our bitchy teacher won't find a problem with it."

Kyle nods. "Ten pages dude. Like, five thousand words. We got it done right before we came here." They high five, looking smugly victorious.  

For some reason the idea that they both got to this party together seems the far more pressing issue to Stan. You'd think he'd be told something like that. Like sure, Kyle did say he'll come by later because he just need finish up school stuff, but that's like a constant with Kyle. You can't really expect Stan to know specifics.

But shit though, ten pages. In one day no less. It took Stan like, two months to write down a three-page assignment for lit class. Some stupid story about Russian pigs or something that Kyle and Cartman nearly murdered each other over. More than usual, that is. There were military tanks and aircrafts and one of the devil's new long-lost sons and everything.

"Impressive." He finally admits.

"Yeah trust me dude, me and Wendy are gonna have so much spare time if we work together this year."

"Would that be a relief. We might even have time to go on an actual date Stan! Wouldn't that be nice? And I can help you with English and literature class?"

"Yeah, and I can tutor you in math, 'cause I've seen your scores last year dude, you could really use the help."

At least they think of him, that's nice.

"And I could finally have some more time to invest to build my campaign for presidency, finally do some good to this school. And start volunteering! We should really go and do that Stan."

"And I could maybe even add some more extra-curriculars, or even get a part-time job…"

Well, this has derailed rather quick. What should he expect anyway.

But they're happy, and drunk with excitement, if not alcohol and for all of Stan's insecurities, honestly it seems harmless enough. For his own benefit, at least. He sets himself back on the couch and rests his eyes with a lazy grin, content to let them vent some more about whatever smart kids vent about until he'll decide to drag them both to have some fun with him. Hopefully the sort that will involve that half-empty vodka bottle he saw earlier.

"You guys are still here?" Bebe skips back a few moments later, dragging a few of the girls along. Despite her disapproving tone, she takes the nearest chair and sets it down by Kyle, propping her legs on top of his.  "And you too Stan. Gosh, you guys are so disappointing. Come on, it's a party! Why don't I see shots in your hands? Where's Butters? BUTTERS!"

"Yes ma'am!" The short boy runs with a tray of shots in one hand, saluting with the other. "Sorry ma'am, I was just answering my dad on the phone, and he says if I won't be back home in three minutes, oh boy I'll be grounded!"

"Well too bad, 'cause you've got responsibilities here! Real men don't cower down in the face of duty!" She raises her finger up in emphasis.

"Real men also don't get grounded when they're seventeen." Stan hears Craig murmuring to nobody in particular.

"Your house' too far anyway Butters, might as well just stay here."

"Gee, I suppose you're right Stan. I guess I better go put on some lotion on my hands, they're all wrinkly. Don't suppose you've got some lotion Bebe?" Butters crouches down, and Stan, Kyle and Wendy take their drinks. As soon as he turns his back there's already a pack gathering to snatch the rest of the glasses from the tray. Bebe makes a circular motion with her finger, and Butter's is already on his way to get more.

"Yeah, soon as you're done here you can help yourself. Come on guys, drink up!"

She glares impatiently at Wendy and Kyle, who were pretty much the only ones not to gulp down as soon as they got their hands on their tiny plastic cups. The two clink them together in mock toast, and get applauded by everyone as the liquid is poured down their throats.

"This is awful." Kyle remarks, and Stan can't help but laugh as Wendy matches his sentiment by casting out her tongue in disgust.

They still take one more shot, and then another, and maybe another after that, and Wendy's in a fit of laughter, and Kyle somehow managed to topple down on the ugly yellow couch, his legs on Stan's whom he accidently kicked in the face, 'cause Kyle's a ticklish dude, and Stan just can't not take advantage of that when he can. Kyle does his best to slur down apologies, but he's so out of it he doesn't even threat to rip his dick off when the jock removes the green hat off, revealing those glorious, messy, thick red curls and ruffles the hell out of them until their caretaker's face disappears completely behind them. He starts to fasten the hair in a messy ponytail on the top of his head, a hair tie "borrowed" from Wendy who left them to sit on Bebe's lap, when Clyde decides to join.  

"Come on guys, let's do spin the bottle!"

"Don't be lame Clyde." Wendy rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, we all know you just want an excuse to kiss Bebe."

"Shut up Token…" Clyde murmurs and laughs awkwardly. Like it wasn't obvious since the fourth grade.  

"Fine. I dare you to kiss Bebe. There, you happy?"

A normal person may get upset, may try to attempt kicking Token's ass, but this is Clyde, so naturally his sole response was to plaster on a huge grin and put his hands on his hips, calling loudly, "Well, a dare is a dare!"

And apparently a drunk Bebe is a loving Bebe, because she actually agrees to the proposal, with the condition that "I get to kiss Stan and Kyle!"

Andof course Stan has to spit a little beer out of his mouth to make things even more awkward, and Butter's asking with the kind of innocence that always gets someone in trouble, "You mean, together or…?"

And Bebe just chuckles, and pipes out "sure!" And he really doesn't know whether to be pissed at her, or at Butters, or Token, but eventually settles on Clyde, 'cause that's easy.

He looks to his girlfriend, whom he would expect a proper reaction from. Something along the line of "Yeah right, you wish Bebe!", or "I'll kiss your ass, bitch!" or even some "Forget the boys, let's French."

He definitely did not expect "Damn Kyle and Stan, now that's hot!"

"Oh my god, I know right?" Annie squeaks.

"They're almost as cute as Tweek and Craig!" Red adds.

"Tweek and Craig are so like an old married couple now, Stan and Kyle it's like, this super best friends forever that never discovered they had feelings for each other until it was too late!"

Tweek and Craig exchange tired looks, shrugging and sighing. Huh, so those two are still together since the fourth grade?

"No Annie, you got it all wrong," Heidi retaliates. "It's obvious that they both have feelings for each other but are too afraid to bare their hearts because they're certain the other is straight!"

"I don't know guys, I think I kinda like the idea of Cartman and Kyle more, all that sexual tension-"

"Ugh, don't be gross Lola, we don't need more reasons to puke our guts out."

Stan's looking behind the guys, but they seem just as confused as he was. He pokes Kyle in the ribs. "Are you getting all this?"

"Mm blhm num." Is all he cares to mumble, his hand reaches up to signal Butters.  

Stan pats his thigh as he's handed one more cup. "Think that's enough for you, dude."

"Mmhham ghnum." And he gulps.

"Wait but," Clyde interrupts the girls, "It kinds of ruins the point if you're gonna kiss Stan and Kyle after we make out…"

"And you wanted to play 'truth or dare'?" David rolls his eyes and Token snorts.

Bebe shrugs. "A dare's a dare Clyde! Take it or leave it."

"Wait, Bebe!" Red suddenly says, and whispers something in her ear. The girls huddle around each other, nodding, shaking their heads, giggling. The boys pass their eyes around to each other. Stan spots Kenny's. _Are you getting all this?_ he mouths. Kenny snickers and nods, raising two thumbs up. Stan swears he hears multiple faint "Sunshine!" cries before the girls turn back around, all of them grinning from ear to ear.

"Okay, okay!" Bebe finally says. She pulls Wendy from her lap and stands up, looking around the pack of the drunk students hanging in her porch.

"We, the girls, have decided that I _will_ be the only one to kiss Clyde, should this dare take place-"

"Whoohoo!" Clyde exclaims, lifting one arm up in victory and bro fists Jason and another random guy Stan doesn't really care to remember right now.

"- _if_ , and only _if…_ "

Her eyes finally rest on the two best friends snuggling on the couch. Stan gulps. Her coy smile seems almost sadistic.

"Stan and Kyle make out."

Stan's blood drains from his face as the sounds of gasps and girly squeals fill his ears.

"Dude. Wendy. What the fuck?"

"Oh come on Stan, it's just a little kiss." The excitement in her eyes betrays the neutrality of her voice. "We've fantasized about you two ever since we learned about Yaoi, let us have a bit of fun!"

He remembers Yaoi. It was what made Tweek and Craig boyfriends. And that definitely didn't make Stan feel any better. "You're my girlfriend dude!"

"So? Wouldn't you like me and Bebe to kiss?"

Damn, good point. "Well, maybe you should then!"

Wendy looks at Bebe, who shrugs, and looks at Clyde. "Do you have a problem with it?"

Clyde shakes his head frantically, his wide eyes never leaving the two girls. "If you do this this is going to be the best night of my life."

His life do suck pretty bad though, so that's not much a telling. "Look, it doesn't matter anyway." Stan reasons, and points his finger and the peacefully unconscious Kyle. "I don't think he'll come up any time soon."

Bebe makes an exaggerated sigh. "That's too bad. Oh well, guess no making out with Clyde then!"

In an instance Clyde is already behind their couch, tapping Kyle's head forcefully. "Dude, dude wake up!" Kyle's hands flail in the air, as if trying to catch an irritating fly, which fits Clyde's description perfectly. When Clyde figures that strategy is as about as ridiculous as himself, he smacks Kyle's forehead so hard he jumps nearly a meter in the air and nearly falls down, if it weren't Stan holding him in place.

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING FUCKFACE?!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Clyde's voice squeaks above the laughter, "But dude, come on, be awesome just this once for me and do this?"

"What the fuck you fucker's talking about?" He rubs his forehead a couple of time, enough to spread the red marks all over. At least now it looks like he's got a sunburn, instead of just a giant hand mark.

"Okay, so long story short-"

"You need to kiss Stan, so Clyde can kiss Bebe, Who will kiss Wendy." Craig interrupts.

Propped on his elbows behind his torso, Kyle gapes for a couple of moments, his alcohol-slowed brain working twice as hard to process… whatever this is. When he's done, it's obvious, because he frowns at Stan like he's the one at fault.

"What? It's not like I suggested it!"

Kyle huffs but doesn't reply, simply slumps back on the couch. Clyde's having none of that though, as he's quickly bending backwards over Kyle's head. "No, dude, come on, you gotta do this for me."

He peeks one skeptical eye open, which is almost as effective as two to make one feel like an idiot. "Why? I don't like you, you always make fun of me and you're a stupid fuck I don't give a shit about." He says. Stan blinks. He knows Kyle and Clyde have rarely seen eye-to-eye ever since Clyde, along with David and himself joined the football team in middle school, same time Kyle signed for all of the hardest classes and started passing with flying colors, proving the genius everyone already suspected he possessed since the first grade of elementary. But Stan never knew Kyle felt, well, quite like that. And what was about Clyde making fun of him? He'd have to ask Kyle later. Hopefully he'll remember.  

"Come on Kyle, don't be a dick. Don't you want to see Wendy and Bebe make out?" A round of agreements and nods comes from the boys and Stan's gotta admit, the deal's starting to sound pretty sweet in his own mind too.

Kyle only yawns loudly. "I think I'd live."

Clyde peeks up, pleading for any help from his friends. Nearly all look between themselves, as if trying to find for the answer telepathically.

"You… get to kiss Stan?" Jason oh-so-helpfully offers. Kyle's silent snarl is murderous enough to send him backwards a few paces.

Now, can call Stan a pussy all you'd like, but that was pretty hurtful.

"What's so wrong about kissing me?"   

"Nothing!" Kyle claims. "Come on Stan, don't tell me you're serious."

"I just don't think kissing you're such a big deal." He shrugs. Well, that and his girlfriend making out with her bestie _would be_ pretty great. And Clyde and the rest of the junior grade students, boys and girls alike, would be his bitches forever, probably. Hopefully.

He didn't imagine Kyle would accept either reason as satisfying.

It's better to keep him at this current gaping state, seemingly torn between feeling guilty or angry "it's not- it's just- dude this is so-" he scowl down to his lap. "Goddamnit."   

There were a few among the crowd looking at Kyle sympathetically, his own girlfriend one of them, insultingly enough. There is only one, however, appearing definitely put off by the whole ordeal, and that is Chris Donnelly, his arms crossed tight around his chest and switching between glaring daggers at Clyde and Stan to sending hopeful looks towards Kyle, who in turn sends apologetic ones back. The two became quite good friends ever since the days they all played Elves in Kyle's backyard. Stan hated Chris back then, being so reliable to their king. Not once did he brood as the blond and the redhead whispered to each other from across the yard while Stan trained the recruits, each time their exchanges becoming more and more private, deep conversations not for suitable for Stan's ears. It may be quite pathetic, but Stan could not have been more overjoyed, five years later, when Kyle came first to him, looking quite disoriented after being confessed at Christmas of sophomore year, a year after Chris had come out.

_"Do you like, like him?" Stan had asked, too fearful of the answer than was probably healthy._

_"I… don't know?" Kyle's blushing face studied every corner of Stan's bedroom as they both sat on the bed, his nails digging inside his jeans. "I mean, sure I like him, and it's not like I never thought about it, I mean, you know? We talked about this stuff. He told me I helped, you know, accept it and all that stuff. So like, it's not like it came out of nowhere."_

_"So… you do wanna?"_

_Kyle bit his lip. "I guess, I don't know, there's like, theoretically considering the idea- I like him as a friend, I could like him as more, I can like, theoretically do all those stuff people do when they date- but then there's actually considering it, and I just, I just can't, see myself there. you know?"_

_And Stan really, really, didn't. And what's more, he was too hung up on the thing that Kyle was suggesting._

_"Kyle, do you, like boys?"_

_And Kyle shrugged then. Just shrugged, like that's irrelevant or something, Like it wasn't the one big question every teenage boy had asked himself at least once in his life. "I don't know dude, I don't really think about it. I don't think I care for either much"_

_"What? But you liked girls before! Rebecca, and Nichole, and Leslie!"_

_"I didn't like Nichole, she was just a girl who said she liked me and I was too flattered not to get a bit over my head, Leslie was a master manipulator, artificial intelligence ad, and yeah, I liked Rebecca, but there was nothing sexual about my feelings for her. It felt like death when she became the town's slut. And because of me, the irony."_

_The stream of words came too fast and too thought-out, even for Kyle. It was obvious he thought it through. But it still didn't explain one thing. "And what about Bebe's boobs?"_

_He snorted, as if honestly surprised Stan even bothered to mention it. "Dude, we were 9 years old acting like cave-men. I'm pretty sure we were just being dumb kids, not really lusting after Bebe's tiny tits and more like I dunno, marking our territory over the new cool thing we found. Or probably just looking for any excuse for a fight to grind ourselves against each other."_

_"Dude, you realize you just destroyed the one proof I had of my heterosexuality and made it totally gay, Right?"_

_"Look, the point is I just don't find myself interested doing anything physical. Sexually, I mean. I guess I would like a relationship, some day, but I don't want to commit myself to a person I don't see at least some sort of future with."_

_"And you don't see that with Chris." Stan stated._

_"Well, anyone from South Park, obviously. I don't want anything holding me back from leaving this place. " And Stan felt like his heart was shot off by a shotgun, Just like Pit the farmer did to him in the eighth grade when he tried to ride one of his cows. No, this feeling was by far worse, because there was no pain to make ache easier._  
  
_"Eve-" his voice broke then, and he paused to take a long breath. "Even me?"_  
  
_Kyle stared at him, puzzled. "'Course not dude. Even if we did somehow end up at two ends of the country- which we won't, not if I have anything to say about it- you will always be the one person that keeps me sane. I'll always need you for that, even if it's gotta be through Skype."_  
  
_And quickly Stan got his heart back, right there and then. He smiled so big the muscles in his cheeks had hurt for weeks, but he didn't care, not after this. "I need you too, you know. I don't know what I'd do without my jewish compass to guide me. It'll be a week and before you know it I'll turn into this shitbag stonehead that writes poetry about goats or something."_

" _You do write poetry though."_

_"Well yeah, but it's good! I mean, it's not about goats…."_

_Kyle smiles, this soft vulnerability, this odd feeling that makes Stan feel cared, loved even, reaching his eyes. It is not a feeling Stan is used to receive, not from Kyle, fiery, short-tempered, harass Kyle, and he didn't want it to end. "And you're still looking for proof about your sexuality?" And he only laughed harder when Stan reached for the lonely pillow on the bed and flung it across his thin features, and an impish delight flew through their bones as they wrestled, a simple happiness to relieve their stressed minds for a blissful hour._

As Kyle and Chris's eyes linger on each other, the former guilty, the latter pleading, Stan wonders how Chris views his own relationship with Kyle. There is a reason they haven't spoken to each other more than a few reluctant hellos each time Kyle forced their presence on each other. He already figured his feelings towards Chris were mutual, and at the moment it couldn't be more obvious what the blond asshat thought about the two super-best friends kissing each other, even for a bunch of silly girls' entertainment. And Stan could be a douche sometimes, he knew that, he wasn't proud of it. But damn, he wouldn’t hide his smug grin even if he could, the moment Kyle finally switches his focus back to Stan, sighs heavily and puffs out a "whatever".

Stan could swear the earth moved at the roar of the horny herd of teens. David ruffling Kyle's hair enough to make him lose the stiff expression and crack a grin, before being overwhelmed by kisses and hugs all over his face by the girls, some of them whisper what Stan could only assume were quite the vulgar suggestions, indicated by the evident blush of the redhead. Stan himself is swarmed by the boys, his friends, most thank him, some praise or gesture suggestively like they think they're funny or something, Kenny giving crude tips Stan will make the best to erase forever from his memory, a few "fags" comments from a voice that sounded suspiciously like Cartman's again, or maybe the assholes from the county, but Stan can't be sure as he's trying to evade Clyde's own attempts of smooching his face in appreciation.

Bebe and Clyde's kiss is sweet, if not a bit cliché. Clyde obviously tries his best to give away all his charm the moment their lips touch. Too bad he doesn't have much of it, and when he pulls her closer the impact is too forceful, the two bumping their noses and Bebe accidently stepping on his leg, which has Clyde limping until the end of the night. Still though, Bebe smiles kindly when he finally lets her go, calling it a formidable 6.7/10. Happiness was practically oozing from the brunette jock.

Then it is their turn, and all eyes are on them. On the two stupid teenagers on that stupid mustard couch in the middle of Bebe's stupid porch. Kyle is on his knees, hands clutching at his thighs, and Stan is crossed legged, determined to be causal about this. But then Kyle shuts his eyes tightly and bends slightly forward, and he moves slowly, hesitantly, but Stan's breath still hitches in his throat, because there isn't nearly enough air in this goddamn place, not with all those retards circling them like two caged animals in an arena, each trying to get the best view. Stan can hear the faint murmurs of "kiss, kiss, kiss", picking and rising with every inch closing between them.

Kyle doesn't even look at him, and the blush coloring along his sharp cheekbones is violently visible, this close up. Stan features probably aren't fairing any better, his face burning hot and palms clammy and _still not breathing_. He has to do something, _anything,_ or else there's gonna be some permanent brain cell damage, so his hand reaches by its own accord to clutch gently as he can at Kyle's chin. The slender teen blinks in surprise, but Stan doesn't let go, trying to calm their racing hearts with a playful smirk. _It's us, dude,_ He wants to say, however his voice seems to have left him all alone. But it's them allright, and because it's them, Kyle's stiff posture eases up, words overrated. He offers Stan a coy smile, a bit sheepish, as much as the redhead is able to do sheepish, and the jock can breathe once again. Because it's Stan and Kyle, and what's a little kiss in the face of their already more-than-gay friendship? Just this one, little lame kiss, a press of Kyle's thin, pinkish lips to his. He licks his upper lip unconsciously, and watches Kyle's emerald, _very_ _emerald_ eyes follow the movement, as he does the same to his bottom one. Stan can feel Kyle's eyebrows furrow as the grip of his hand leaves the pointy chin, only to cup at the side of his jaw, the tip of the jock's fingers tangling in that mess of curls, and he pulls Kyle closer, and closer, until the redhead can do nothing but prop his hands on Stan's thighs, digging into the muscles, and they can smell each other's breaths like they had so many times before, but it's different now, because now Stan is curious of the taste implied, and it's odd and it's wonderful when Kyle's lips disappears down from view, and the green eyes close shut just before his own do, and then,

They touch.

And their world shall never be the same.

 

 

It is like an explosion of colors, of tastes, of smells, all in a pair of lips. Lips he thought he knew better than his own, tasting of alcohol mixed with mint toothpaste, a touch of Judaism, a pinch of New-Jersey but mostly overflowing with Kyle, _Kyle_ , who's hands move slowly up, running across the jock's chest and sending shivers all over his body, one stopping to grab the front collar of his shirt, the other holding the side of his neck, with the thumb tilting his chin up. Stan draws him until the teen practically straddles him, but Stan doesn't care because he needs more, and soon his tongue darts out the moment Kyle pauses for breath, and he can taste the back of his clean teeth, the insides of his mouth, and he lets Kyle pull on his tongue between his teeth, and _wow_ when did he learn how to kiss like that, when did _Stan_ learn how to kiss like that, and it's getting seriosuly hot and seriosuly tight-

Oh no.

Oh no no no no.

Shit Shit SHIT.

This is bad. This is very bad. It's also bad Stan still has his mouth moving on Kyle, which doesn't make the situation any better, it probably makes it worse, and he vaguely recalls his football captain is a North Park Senior, this homophobe asshole that Stan should really not be bothered with, because he's not gay and this will all be made clear when that boner in his pants will go away, if he'll just. Stop. Kissing. Kyle. Goddamnit!

At least Kyle can be trusted, because he stops the kiss urgently, his eyes wide with shock, and Stan wonders whether it has anything to do with the dick that's teasing his butt, and Stan can't help but glance down and oh look, Kyle's happy to see him too, or did he stuff a beer can in there? Can they blame it on the drinking? The pregnant silence around them implies they cannot, actually, blame it on the drinking.

Shit Shit Shit.

Kyle starts to get off him, and concealing Stan's lap with his leg on his way down, leaving himself completely exposed. Stan gets the hint, and rests his elbows on his raised knees to cover himself, But it's too late for Kyle, so Stan's just rubbing his neck awakwardly and says loudly, "Shit dude."

Kyle quirks his lips shyly upwards. "So that's why Wendy's putting up with you."  

And Wendy, who's presence beside him he's forgotten all about, let's out a strangled laugh, and Stan joins her, and then the girls, and the boys, they all burst out laughing and Stan hopes nobody'll ask why.

"Dudes…" Craig says as he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, that was, really really gay." Ned adds.

And it was, it is, but Kyle rolls his eyes and demands another shot, but Stan doesn't take when is offered, for once, because he can still feel the taste, and he's afraid to make it end, afraid to brush his teeth in the morning.

Afraid the alcohol will pass away, and he'll be filled with nothing but embarrassment and shame.

But Kyle still keeps his grin, because Kyle doesn't give a shit what people think about him, and Kyle won't regret his actions tommorrow, because Kyle doesn't have regrets. And that, above everything else, is what makes Stan keep a genuine smile for the rest of the night as well.

At least one thing is certain.

Stan Marsh truly, wholesomely, for eternity and after- or at least until the end of the night,

'Got a love-hate relationship with Beer Cans.

 


	4. Kenny Mccormick.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after, only it's noon, and still way too early for Stan to deal with life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so first of all, thank you all for the wonderful comments! They make me so freaking happy I could cry!!!!
> 
> Unfourtenatly, exams are getting closer and I might need to slow down updates. I'll still try to post at least once a week, but I'm not sure how likely that's going to be.
> 
> Here's to hoping for a decent grade!!

It is Saturday afternoon, still first weekend of school, at the Marshes' kitchen table, gulping down this disgusting anti-hangover goo straight from the blender, dealing with a headache so bad he already mumbled out his will, when Stan finds the meaning of love.  
  
It is the reliever of all pains, the comfort of discomfort, the shining beacon in a dark, dark tunnel. It is love.   
  
It is,   
  
Kenny McCormick.   
  
God bless his soul.   
  
"I love you dude." The raven haired jock declares. It hurts to talk, it really does, but at least the table serves as a head-pillar, so that makes life easier. Not comfortable, but easier.   
  
"I know Stan, I know." The angelic teen pats his blender-free hand. It is really a godlike pat, so soothing and full of sympathy. Motherly even, and without the fear of a scold looming over his head like a fat damn bee just waiting for the right moment to strike her suicidal attack. Fucking bees.   
  
"Thanks for coming." He remembers to add, because unlike popular opinion, Stan has in fact learned some manners since elementary school. Sort of. Not to think this is the first time Stan has ever called Kenny like it's some fucked-up instinct after a bad drinking night, begging him to come over and cook him dad's hangover recipe. Because dude, who can even bother to remember what the fuck Tummeric is and where does their mom put the carrots ("It's in the fridge Stanley, just like the other vegetables") when all they really wanna to do is just stick their heads in the toilet seat and cry their stomach out?   
  
Kenny often commends him for making the more sensible choice.   
  
"And besides", he adds, "you know I'm always looking for an excuse to raid your fridge." He says, and it's true. Even now he's with a mouthful of peanut butter toast. He's got a half peeled banana in his hand too, and a hefty piece of mom's leftover tuna casserole lies generously on a plate. Unheated, just like Kenny likes it. Cornflakes and a milk carton sit on the counter, but that may just have been for the goo.   
  
Of course, there is also that empty glass with some disgusting chunks scattered inside.   
  
"Did you help yourself to some?" Stan asks.   
  
Kenny nods.   
  
"Did it help the, uh?" He knocks twice on his head.   
  
Kenny nods.   
  
"That's nice".   
  
Kenny shrugs. "It's really not as bad as you make it. I had worst things in my mouth.”   
  
"You did have Mrs.Cartman's Vagina in your mouth." He affirms.   
  
"I had Mr.Garrison's Vagina in my mouth."   
  
"Eww, what?"   
  
"He sold it to Miley Cyrus after her one got torn"   
  
"Oh".   
  
There is a companionable, only mildly awkward, silence hanging between them, broken only by Kenny's chewing and Stan’s slurping.   
  
"So," Kenny tries, and Stan appreciates. "How 'bout Bebe and Wendy yesterday huh? That was pretty great, Right?" He does a blowing motion with the Banana before swallowing it whole, and Stan's sure that's the only reason he wanted to eat it in the first place.   
  
He takes a long look at the blended goo. _Three quarters gone_ is his internal note. That’s gotta be enough, right? Either way he rests the blender on the table, pushing it as far away as he cares to. "I guess." He then relents.   
  
Honestly Stan wasn't really paying attention to the two hot girls making out right there on the porch. Sneaking into the bathroom inside the house before someone noticed the bulge in his pants seemed like the more pressing issue at that moment.   
  
It should really not have been surprising to meet Kyle as the latter opened the door out. They still stared at each other like two flushed-face idiots for three minutes before snapping back and realise that _they're standing together near a bathroom,_ and that's probably not the best way to not avoid suspicion.

Naturally, they evaded one another for the rest of the night.  
  
"Please shoot me". He whimpers and slumps his head down harshly, curling his arms around.   
  
Kenny is a good person. He really is. That is evident as he reaches for Stan's hand again, and says, "Don't worry, few days and no one will even remember you were part of it." And Stan might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he doesn't fail to note Kenny is sure the general event, will, in fact, be remembered. And that's worrisome.   
  
"They'll remember someone else though?" He asks, and when there is no answer he understand, reluctantly, that he has to lift his head up. It hurts, and he feels dizzy, but he braves it on. Because Kenny looks nervous. Concerned.   
  
"Just... don't be so hard on him, okay?"   
  
"Who are you talking about, dude?" Stan furrows his thick brows, more irritated than demanding.   
  
"Kyle, obviously! Look, I get it that it's weird for you, but he's probably confused about it all himself. One day you think you're more.attracted to numbers than people, next day you get a massive boner for your best friend in front of your entire class.”   
  
"Is that… I mean, did he say anything?"   
  
"He didn't have too, I mean, we were there. It was kind of hard to miss, the, uh, you know…" He points downward with his finger, and Stan's face heat up like a bushing bride. "Nobody gives him a hard time or anything. You know, 'cept for Cartman probably. I mean, he didn't even want to do it anyway, we just roped him into it. " He shakes his head sadly, face guilt-ridden. "You know how the kids and teachers out of town are.”   
  
Yeah. He remembers the incident with Donnelly and last year's seniors far too well. He may not like Chris, but even he can respect his balls- Metaphorically speaking of course.  "Maybe it won't that bad? Kyle's not exactly a pushover.”

“Yeah, Craig and Chris aren't ones too. But Kyle doesn't have basket or football to protect him from getting kicked in the face.”

Yeah. _Kyle_ doesn't.   
  
There's a knock on the door. No, wait, three knocks. Scratch that, five harsh bangs, ready to burst down the door. Kenny hesitantly gets up, but Stan raises his hand and motions him to sit back down.   
  
"'s fine, I'll get it." He says so grudgingly, and props both his hands by the sides of his head to lift himself up. Every step is like a hammer beating acid into his brain, and when he reaches the door he swears it has to be the greatest achievement of his life. Seriously.   
  
He opens the door to find Kyle standing in front of him, his arms crossed, brows furrowed and lips pouting. He's even more alarming than usual, because the bags under his eyes are especially prominent today.   
  
"Uh, hey dude." Stan rasps out. "Why’re knocking?"   
  
Kyle’s frown deepens. "You didn't answer my texts."   
  
Oh. "Right, sorry. Didn't check the phone. You know how I get."   
  
Kyle nods. His expression soften somewhat, though he still keeps his arms between him and Stan. "Did you make your goo?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"You could have called me, you know."   
  
Stan shrugs, because it's as good an answer as any he thinks, and lowers his eyes to his feet. There’re socks on them. It still too warm for socks. "Didn't want to bother you."   
  
Kyle raises his brow, but says nothing. It's has been a while since Stan had last called Kyle for hangover emergency. Kenny is easier. Kenny doesn't come with a lecture. And usually kind enough to to brew coffee afterwards- they used to go out for ice cream before Stan decided to care.   
  
Kyle also tends to bring homework with him.   
  
He watches Stan expectedly, and Stan looks back, but his mind is blank. He opens his mouth, unsure what for. Maybe he wants to ask what did Sheila say when she saw Kyle return home at 4:00 AM, perhaps if he slept well, or a good old fashioned _how's the weather?_ but luckily Kyle speaks first.   
  
"Are your parents' home or something?"   
  
Stan gapes dumbly. "Um, no” because they both work on Saturdays. Stupid of them, but Stan isn't complaining any time soon.   
  
"Then why aren't you letting me in?"   
  
Oh. Right. Stan's still standing in the doorway. He moves to the side, and Kyle marches right in, back arched, looking all kinds of self righteous. It's little things like this, when the redhead actually puts on an effort to appear far too high and mighty to care that make Stan know how much he does.   
  
But the charade is done soon enough, the moment Kyle drops down the sofa in fact, and starts lifting the cushions in search for the remote. "It's ridiculous dude. Moment I get up I get swarmed by texts." He finds the remote then, starting to surf through the channels. Stan still stands by the door, his eyes flicker between the teen and the kitchen pass. "I mean, most weren't that bad, I guess. Red said it was even better than she imagined, which I'm flattered, I guess? Annie just sent me Yaoi drawings of us and I don't think I can have my innocence back. Then Wendy and Nichole called to say they've got my back, whatever that means." At some point he gets tired of surfing through lame channels, so he switches to MTV, and there's this really lame Rihanna song playing and Stan wants to turn it off, but Kyle's still talking, something about texting David and Craig, of all people, and Bebe refusing to answer him. He has his shoes off and curls his legs up. Stan still doesn't join. The memory of the last couch they shared is still too fresh a memory.   
  
"...and fucking Cartman's calling every twenty minutes just to laugh. He actually climbed to my window and pasted 'LOL' made of shit on it when I blocked him. Like, literal shit dude. My mom freaked. God I fucking hate him! He also sent me photos of us, by the way. Dunno if he's trying for blackmail or just sent it for kicks, but he can fuck off either way. That guy from your football team's gonna tell everybody anyway, you know. He's shit like that. And that Morrison? You don't know him I think, but he was there too. He's on the basketball team, tried to get Chris and Craig kicked out along with the seniors. He's a fucking dick. And that chick, Mandy. She's my biology teacher's daughter dude. She failed Tweek twice because he 'wrote too fast'. Did you get any texts?"   
  
The flow of the words comes too quickly, too forcefully, and it takes Stan a few moments to process Kyle has asked him a question. Shit, what was it?   
  
"What?" He gives. Kyle huff's, but repeats. Stan shakes his head. "No dude, I told you, didn't really check my phone."   
  
Kyle nods, and he softens further. Was that a freaking test? "Well, you better go look. I mean, not to freak you out, but if they've seen yours too-"   
  
"Kenny's here!" Stan suddenly announces. Kyle’s eyes startle in surprise.   
  
At that moment Kenny decides to pick his head out of the kitchen. "So uh, I can come out now?" He asks, and waves sheepishly to Kyle when the redhead turns to him.   
  
"Hey Kenny." He says, with far more softness to his voice than his stern expression lets on. "I didn't know you were here." And when he looks back, Stan feels a pang of guilt, because this _is_ his best friend, a fact that sometimes surprises even him, but it’s painful, it’s genuinely _painful_ to think that _he_ has caused Kyle to look this hurt. "You could have told me he was here, you know. I'm not that much of a leech."   
  
"You're not a-!" Stan says hurriedly, but Kenny interrupts.   
  
"I was about to go anyway, just came to make us some goo." He points at his temple, and Kyle nods stiffly. Kenny reaches to grab his shoulder. "Call me later, okay?"   
  
Kyle smiles weakly, and soon Kenny is out of the door, and it slams shut, hard, making it all the more clear it's only them now. Stan and Kyle. It was easier when he could still feel Kenny's presence a room away. It was easier when Kyle was just vomiting words as usual and not looking at him like he cut a dagger through his heart.   
  
"I just, I didn't want to bother you dude." It sounds ridiculous even to himself, so he just lowers his eyes down, and digs his hands in his pockets.   
  
"I wondered why you haven't called me to nurse you for six months." Kyle's voice is surprisingly tender. Stan wants to cry. "I just thought it meant you were doing better."   
  
He shrugs simply, eyes still on the ground.   
  
"You should have told me. Not call fucking Kenny!"   
  
"Look, it’s just, you don’t want to help anyway.” Stan whispers, but he knows Kyle heard him. Because when he picks his eyes up, it’s _painful_. “Kenny doesn’t mind, he knows how to deal with drunk people.”

“Oh what, mix them sludge and make them forget about the pain until they do it all over again? You fucking know how fucked up this is, Stan. If you’d just go to a psychiatrist-”

“Oh don't, just, don't start with this again.” his head aches again. He rubs it, once, twice, and it's not better, not worse either. He can feel the emerald eyes burn through him, and he knows the expression on that sharp face without looking up to it. Rage. Frustration. Sadness. Sympathy. It used to be pity, once. He likes sympathy better.

Still void of any empathy. Because Kyle never gets it. Stan hopes he never will. No, that’s a lie. Sometimes he hopes he would.

“Look, just, forget about this, okay? And forget about Kenny. He’s just making the fucking goo and eats out the fridge. You know I don’t talk to him about this stuff. Not like we do. Did. Will do.” He rambles, he knows, and he’s not sure if that’s what Kyle’s looking for him to say. He knows he needs to say it. “Please Kyle, what happened yesterday’s, it's driving me insane. I don't- I’m- fuck. I just can't handle this. I fucking need you dude.”

And there’s this strange liquid in his eyes, and it’s tears, he knows them pretty well by now, and before he knows it he’s sobbing, and it’s hurting his head so fucking bad. But he feels a warmth, it’s Kyle, Kyle warping his hands around him as he leans on and wall and lower himself down to the floor. His forehead is attached to his shoulder, and his hands are enfolded there too, clinging desperately and ugly, he’s crying ugly and Kyle’s gonna hate him so bad after, because he likes this stupid shirt, that’s calling him a rebel for reading a sentence, and Stan soils it up with tears and snot.

“Hey, come on. The kiss wasn’t that bad.” Kyle whispers in his ear, and Stan thinks it’s suppose to be a joke, he snorts anyway, it's as ugly as his sobbings, but it’s better too.  

“I’m so sorry Kyle.” He lets out, and he tugs him tighter. “Kenny told me, they think it’s just you, and fuck they're so fucking stupid dude...”

“Of course they do. You’re the jock with the girlfriend Stan. They have no reason to question _your_ sexuality.” There’s some bitterness to the tone, but he still cradles Stan to his chest, hand reaches to smooth the dark hair. It’s soothing, Like a mother’s touch, only that it's Kyle. “They were probably just waiting for an excuse to boycott me. ”

“You could date Bebe.” Stan suggests, though it’s muffled by the slender shoulder, “You know she likes you, she’ll forgive you eventually-”

“Dude, I’m not making Bebe my beard.”

“She doesn’t have to be! Maybe you’ll like it, like you did yesterday-”

He huffs. “What, for her to touch my dick? That’s a really shitty reason Stan.”

“It’s not that simple.

“Yes it is.” And he pulls Stan away, enough for raven haired to miss the warmth. But Kyle’s eyes lock on his, and their certainly is a relieving comfort. “What you think last night meant?”

Stan looks away. “You know what it means.”

“Yes I do.” He says, but Stan can tell it’s not the same knowledge that Stan possesses. “It means we’re two teenage boys that get boners when something’s touching our dicks.”

Stan snaps his eyes back in surprise, and he must be looking at Kyle like he’s an idiot, because his nose crinkles in annoyance. “Dude, don’t act like a retard for my sake, okay? It's awkward enough-”

He rolls his eyes. “You get a boner when your hand touches your dick. Are you attracted to your hand Stan?”

“Of course not, but-”

“You grind up against a pillow, or a goddamn tree. Are you attracted to a goddamn tree?”

“No.” He grumbles, and he hugs his knees.

“Then I’m a goddamn fucking tree Stan!” He shouts and he stands, towering over the boy on the floor. He’s quite intimidating when he’s taller. Good thing at least some of his mother’s genes got through. Beside the auburn hair, that is. And the nose.

“Look, we kissed, we got carried away, our dicks got caught in the middle. It’s. That. Simple. Don’t be thick like the rest of those dumb assholes and make it something more.”

He bores at Stan again, daring him to challenge the logic. Stan rests his chin to his knees, staring ahead, between the gap in Kyle’s legs. It sounds good, he must admit. It’s true even, to a point. But there is one thing that’s not right. Not one bit.

“Why _did_ we get carried away?”

There is no immediate answer. The redhead stands still a few moments, maybe thinking, maybe just frowning, Stan doesn’t know, but eventually he sits down besides Stan, shoulder to shoulder, and sighs heavily.  

“This was my first kiss Stan.”

Stan knows that.

“I know that.”

“And I’m the first person you've kissed besides Wendy. It's been eight years, Stan.”

“I know that.” He mutters faintly.

He feels Kyle shrugging besides him. “Feel like answers to me.”

They're not though, not to Stan. But it's most likely the best he's going to get. Maybe he and Kyle are on different pages after all. It is not a consoling thought, not at all. But It's good to know where he stands, at least.

He looks to Kyle's lips. They utter words, but Stan doesn't listen, simply watches as they move. They're as thin and fair and dry as they were yesterday, before they attached themselves to Stan’s. They were swollen after, wet and pink and begging more.

Stan wants to kiss them like that again. He wants to _make them_ like that again.

And that, Kyle can't possibly explain.

Would he let Stan kiss him if he’ll try? He obviously enjoyed it yesterday, that much is certain. Would it really be so awful if Stan’d just, lean in, close their lips together, thick over thin? Would Kyle not open his mouth to invite Stan’s tongue in? Would he bite Stan’s lips hungrily just like he did? Would he climb over Stan and take him in and move his hands up through his chest and grab Wendy’s-

Wendy?

“...at you, ‘kay dude?”

Stan shakes his head a couple of times. “What?”

Kyle raises his brow. “I asked if you could grab your phone and check if Wendy’s pissed at you. She texted me, so I think we're cool? I don't wanna take any chances, though. I could _really_ use her help this year.”

Right. Kyle and Wendy. Chemistry.

Huh, Kyle and Wendy share chemistry.

Isn't that hilarious.

Right so, phone. In his room. “Does that mean I have to get up?”

Kyle rolls his eyes and groans, lifting himself and dashing up the stairs. He returns a minute after, holding Stan’s phone and sitting comfortably on the sofa once again, tapping twice to the empty seat next to him. When Stan hesitates, he raises a single brow before flickering it open, tapping the screen doing god-knows-what and ensuring Stan jumping straight at him to snatch it away.

_Locked, try again in five minutes._

Kyle smirks, looking way too smug. So the jock just throws the phone back at the asshole, albeit forcefully, maybe. “Oww! Fucking jesus dude, that hurts!” he clutches at his shoulder, and there’s probably gonna be a bruise there, but Stan doesn’t stay to check. Definitely not to apologize.

“I’m making coffee.” He says, and he walks off towards the kitchen.

“Make me one too, fucking dim-wit!”

He does end up making two cups of coffee four and a half minutes later: One, instant coffee, two Splendas, boiling hot water and a zit of low-fat milk. Second, two tea-spoons instants, half hot water, half full-fat milk. Two teaspoons sugar.

Kyle grabs the thick cup with two hands when he’s back, still pouting, his shirt pulled sideways to reveal his skinny collarbone, a red mark already blessing it. The coffee doesn’t help the mood either. “Ugh dude, did you put sugar in it again?” He sneers in disgust.

Stan doesn’t answer. He grabs the phone again and bypass the password.

Kyle drinks anyway.  
  


_3 missed calls from ♥Wendy♥_

_1 missed call from Nedwipe._

_1 missed call from Daaaavid XD._

_2 missed call from Kyley B_

_22 new messages from 9 different contacts_

_8:23 ♥Wendy♥: Stan, we need to talk. Call me when you wake up._

_11:53 Kyley B: Are you up dude? Need my help?_

_13:27 Kyley B: Are you hungover/sleeping/pissed at me? If it's the first two then call me. Last one then fuck you, call me._

_14:10 ♥Wendy♥: Stan?_

_14:56 ♥Wendy♥: Stan don't make this a big issue. I’m not mad, just call me okay?_

_15:04 Ken (. Y .) :k im up want me 2 cum? 69_

_15:18 Annie: *KyleStan1.jpg* *KyleStan2.jpg* *KyleStan4.jpg* *KyleStan5.jpg* *KyleStan7.jpg*_

“Woah dude!”

“Told you...”

_15:26 Ned: Hey man, shit the party was awesome. Sorry for your brofloski bitch, man can't believe that guy. Dont worry tho were taking care if shit. If yu wanna talk just call._

_15:38 Kyley B: Call me or I'm coming over._

_15:42  ♥Wendy♥: Stan I’m serious. David just called Lola, Ned already told all the football team what happened. They’re taking it really hard. He thinks Kyle can get in real trouble. Don’t be mad at him, okay? He’s your best friend, don’t let this ruin your friendship. It’s natural for this sorts of things to happen._

_15:54 Fatass: HAHAHAHAHAH OMG HAHAHHAH I TOLD YOU HIPPI I TOLD YOU TO BEWARE OF THE JINJER FERAMONS I TOLD YOU HAHAHAHHA YOU SO GOING TO HELL DUDE YOU MADE OUT WITH FUCKING KYLE HAHAHHA YOU JOO LOVING HIPPI YOU SUCK SO BAD_

_16:00 Kyley B: I’m coming over._

_16:14 Daaaavid XD : Hey dude, call me okay? The guys talkin shit bout you two. If kyle hears any of it he’s gonna rip dicks aparts. Not saying anything here in case he’s looking thru your phone ;)_

“I think we’re getting predictable.”

“He’s under the assumption I haven’t had enough of an experience with dicks yesterday to last a lifetime.”

“Huh, good point. You should go for their nipples instead.”

_16:15 Ken (. Y .) : good lack dude dont kil eech other & cal me l8er 69 _

_16:23 num 4 with mole: man cant believe that jew prick never thought the fat hole will be right but daaaamm he was so right just cant believe this you know who can yu trust this shit aint real next thing you know were_

_16:24 num 4 with mole: getting fags on our team and they gonna stare at our dicks and spank our asses and suck off the couch whats this world is coming to you know_

_16:32 Fatass: HAHAHAHAHA FUCKING JOO LICKER YUR TONG GOTA BI ALL BLU AND DEAD AND SHIT SELFI ME YUR TONG STAN PLEEEESE?_

_16:36  ♥Wendy♥: Fine, don’t call me. Look just talk to your football buddies and tell them to leave Kyle alone, okay? It’s the least we can do, since we roped him into it in the first place. Btw Bebe wants to fuck up your butthole, so better watch it._

“Dude, why does your girlfriend’s making a wimp ass out of me? And why does everybody think they ‘made me do it?’ I made that decision all by myself, thank you.”

“At least she cares about you, mister ‘I-just-need-her-help-in-chemistry’. And don't be a phony, why else would you do it?”

“Are you kidding me? ‘Ooooh Kyle I’m so sensitive why don’t you wanna kiss meeeee.’”

“Oh don’t you give me that shit, you know I just wanted to watch Bebe and Wendy make out.”

“No you didn’t!”

“Well, it was part of it!”

“You ran to the bathroom right while they were at it!!”

“Yeah, thanks to you asshole.”

“Ugh, just keep reading.”

_16:38 Asslyde: hy bro. So u, yea. ystrdy knda suckd for yu, srry bout tht. no hrd flings rite? i ffing LOVE yu 2 fr Bebe dud. srsly i owe yu. thnk kyle pissd at me so tll him im srry & whtvr k? rly ddnt mean fr sht to go down lke tht. _

_16:44 Jojo: hey dude heard what happened last night. kinda wish Id have gone to the party, maybe next time. i'l bring shawn and milly too. shawn sends sympathy btw. his phones broken. anyway no hard feelings, were with you. if brovlofski’s coming to molest you know who to call ;))))_

_16:47 Greg: Hey dude, hope you're doing okay. Know you south parks are all tolerant and stuff, still gotta be weird about Broflovski. Shame about him, he's a good guy. Kind of a stuck up maybe, know lots in the team hate the living shit out of him but most are too stupid to even understand what he's saying half the time. So don't mind this assholes, if you two are good then you’re good._

_16:49  ♥Wendy♥: Stanley you pick up your phone RIGHT NOW or I’m unleashing my blond bitch on your sorry ass._

Stan looks at phone’s clock. 16:53.

“You better call her dude.” Kyle oh-so-helpfully advices.

“You just _had_ to flirt with the boxer, didn’t you?” Stan complains, but his fingers already searching through his contacts for his girlfriend’s name. He attaches it to his ear when it starts to dial, some Adele song playing in the background.

“I didn’t _flirt_ with Bebe, I don’t _flirt_ period.”

“Hello, Stan?!”

“Hey Wendy, would you call Kyle a major flirt?”

“You've got a lot of nerve-! I, what?”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Stan, is Kyle's with you?! How fucking stupid are you?! Why didn’t you freaking call me all day are you _trying_ to drive me insane-”

“I know I know I’m sorry, but be honest, come on. Is Kyle a flirt or not?”

“Well...”

“WHAT?!?”

“AH HA!!”

“When have I ever flirted with anybody ever!?"

“You _may_ exhibit in some _unintentional_ _flirtatious_ behaviour with certain people. Bebe, for instance. And Chris. And Esther. And Mary. And Christophe. And Kenny.”

“I talk with Esther like, once a year. “

“Yes, and she keeps bragging each time.”

“This is such bullshit.” Kyle gets up with a groan, two empty cups grabbed in his hands as he strods towards the kitchen. Stan hopes he’s gonna clean the mess he and Kenny left. Mom and Dad should be home soon.

“Stan?” Wendy’s voice comes through the phone once again.

“Yeah, sorry dude I swear I only checked my phone now. Kyle came by when I didn’t answer him too.”

She sighs. “Should have known not to worry. Your friendship is like a fucking cockroach.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Seriously I’ve been worrying all day about you two idiots for god knows why, and then I find you both hiding out in your house. I guess I should be thankful you aren’t still moping in bed.”

“Um, thanks?” He repeats, ‘cause it feels too appropriate not to.

“Ugh, you just can’t _believe_ the stress I had to deal with since this morning. I wake up and Bebe’s sitting on my bed, threatening to cut off your dick for ‘stealing her man’. Though really after all this double dates we’ve had together I’d be pissed off too. Really though I’m disappointed Kyle didn’t just tell us, did he really think we would judge him? Did he not remember we’ve had Mr. Garrison for a teacher? And Mister Slave, god. I swear, of all people I never thought _Kyle_ would be ashamed of his sexuality. Though I suppose it’s possible he wasn’t sure of it himself...”

The tap in the kitchen has been running for at least two minutes now. There’s some scrubbing noises too. That’s a good sign. Stan stares at the screen of the phone. 17:10. There’s still some time before his parents get home. Mom really doesn’t like it when Kyle cleans the dishes instead of Stan. She does like Kyle quite a bit when it’s _her_ dishes though. Dad, not so much. Maybe because Kyle always had a knack for outsmarting Randy without even trying.

Even when Kyle had been nine years old.

Dad was in his middle forties back then.

“Stan? STAN?!” Wendy’s voice shrieked.

“What, what??”

“God, do you ever listen to a word I say? I asked if Kyle ever talked to you about this. You know there was this rumor going he might be asexual? I don’t know who started it, it might have even been him, you know. To ‘ _keep the fans at bay’_.” She chuckles.

“Um Wendy.” Stan starts. He’s not sure how to say it. How did Kyle phrase it? “Have you ever thought that maybe, like, Kyle’s not gay? Like, maybe, you know. I mean, we both got a bit carried away, then. Like, you know, like when you touch a tree? I mean when your dick touches a tree? Well you don’t know, you’re not a dude. But like, when your dick touches stuff, it’s like, it’s get’s a boner?”

There’s a long silence, And Stan would have assumed Wendy had hung up. It really wasn’t a first. But then she asks, “So, every time something touches your dick, it gets hard?”

Stan furrows his brows, which he hopes she can feel at least. Because her voice sounds dubious, and he really doesn’t like the place this conversation is going. “Well, not _every time_. Like, it needs context, I guess?"

“Context, as in?”

“As in... something that like, makes you get hard. Like. Boobs and shit.”

“Boobs and shit.” She deadpans.

“Well not _shit,_ I didn’t mean literal shit. You know. I mean I think Kyle’s still in contact with Mr. Hankey but I don’t think they’re-”

“So you mean to tell me, that while you and Kyle were making out, he was thinking about ‘boobs and shit’ and not about how you licked his mouth like KFC gravy?”

“You know I think I’m really starting to dislike KFC lately?”

“Or how nicely he fit in your lap like it’s got his name written on it? You know I’ve wondered why we’ve never done something like that, I thought maybe because you’d just get too excited and start throwing up again, but I see that’s not an issue anymore, now is it? I guess you just waited for the right kind of ass to snuggle you up.”

“What? No no no no, Wendy I-” 

“Because, you know Stan, _I_ touched your dick once, and it really wasn’t quite as _enthusiastic_ as Kyle was last night. And yeah okay it was kind of a soft touch and you were barely conscious, but still, you’d think that when your girlfriend’s touching you you’d at least feel _some_ excitement. And now that I think about it, sure we know Kyle had a boner the size of the eiffel tower, but we really don’t know that you _didn’t_ get one too. And don’t you think I didn’t notice you snuck to the bathroom while me and Bebe were making our part of the dare, I mean jeez, talk about disrespectful!”

“Wait! I just, I saw the beginning of it, then, like, I got-”

“And you _know_ how hard I’ve worked to get rid of your vomit habits just so we can make out like two normal teenagers do, and then you just go all out with _Kyle_ , like always-”

“Okay Wendy I really think this is getting a bit out of hand-”

“Oh don’t bullshit me Stanley, you’ll only make it worse for yourself. ‘Cause I think I’m finally starting to understand things more clearly now. So goodbye Stan, It’s been nice knowing you!”

And she hangs up.

Stan stares at the screen.

_17:16 ♥Wendy♥ Oh and btw tell Kyle we’re still on for Chem._

“K, finally done!” Kyle chimes in, wiping his hands with a clean towel. He always takes out a clean towel out of the cabinet. Evidences to dispose of before mom gets home number one. “So what the yellings all about?”

“I think uh, Wendy just broke up with me?” Kyle’s eyes widen in terror. “She’s still up for chem.” He adds, holding forward the phone, text message displayed in all of it’s offending glory.

“Oh.” Kyle’s expression shift to boredom, and he throws the towel at Stan, who unconsciously hides it under his shirt. “I give her a week."

Stan shrugs, still too shocked to comprehend anything, and honestly he thinks his hangover is starting to lul back into action. Is that possible? “Maybe.” He throws the phone to edge of the couch, and it bumps back right next to him, screen up. Whatever.

“Well, anyway, think I’m gonna head out. Guys are gonna play basketball- you didn’t answer, and teams are already made up. You can come watch if you want, I guess. Better not though, Chris’s pissed at me or something, and I promised I’ll talk with him tomorrow so better you not making it worse. Well anyway, see you!” Is all said in one, far too cheerful a breath.

And soon the door is slammed shut, and Stan is alone, is confused, and is staring at nothing in particular. He can hear the sound of his dad’s loud car parking in the garage.

How is this even his life?

_17:22 Ken (. Y .) : Dud man yu got tu cum i got a spot rite at bebes mom bathrum man shi got nise tits._

Thank god for Kenny, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle's shirt is this one, for the few of you that were interested- https://image.spreadshirtmedia.com/image-server/v1/products/111617446/views/1,width=378,height=378,appearanceId=231,version=1465297176/Do-Not-Read-The-Next-Sentence...-T-Shirts.png
> 
> I dunno, it's just seems like something Kyle would wear.
> 
> And I may or may not have googled how to make keyboard boobs for Kenny's contact nametag.... :D
> 
> And yes, I imagine 86% of fictional Park County population to be shit at grammer and volcabulary

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> (...Seriously, please me if it's crap)


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